Walking on Air

by Catherine Anderson

  “I don’t think this is a gift that Santa can deliver,” he said softly, his voice oddly hoarse. “I wish I could make a baby with you—a child of our very own, a part of us both.”

  Nan pressed closer. “Ah.” She turned her lips against his ear. “Then plant a fertile seed in my garden, Gabriel. I shall nurture it and love it and cherish it.”

  Gabe wondered if he’d already sown a seed. They’d done nothing to prevent a pregnancy. “I won’t be here to help you raise a child. It’s a rough road to walk alone, honey.”

  “Not if a woman is a millionaire,” she quipped. “That said, I haven’t given up hope that the angels may decide you deserve to remain here. You’re a wonderful man, Gabriel, a special gift in my life, and in the lives of others.”

  “Others?”

  He felt her lips curve again. “Silly man. Did you fail to notice today how fond all the shopkeepers have become of you? Mr. Wilson at the general store has told anyone who’ll listen how you saved his little girl’s life! And Doc Peterson, who has seen half the town’s population, has naught but good things to say of you. You’re leaving a long trail of friends behind you.”

  Friends. Gabe had never had one. “You really think those shopkeepers like me?”

  Nan smothered a giggle against his shoulder. “You sound rather horrified.”

  Gabe had to stifle a laugh himself against her silken hair, which smelled so intoxicating that he could have gotten as drunk as a lord just sniffing. “Not horrified, only baffled. Nobody has ever liked me.”

  She feathered kisses along the underside of his jaw. “I like you—a lot. And now so do other people. You’re a very likable person, Gabriel Valance. Gossip runs rampant about your saving Charity Wilson and then rescuing Christopher. Your true colors have been showing.”

  Gabe felt her hand slip downward to his thigh. He knew an invitation when he received one. He sorely wished the children weren’t sleeping in rooms so short a distance from theirs. He wanted to make love with his wife using his lips and tongue to pleasure her, but he couldn’t do that if he had to be kissing her constantly to keep her from crying out.

  “Nan,” he asked in a husky whisper, “if I asked you to bite down hard on one of my clean socks, would you do it?”

  “Why on earth would you ask me to do that?”

  He traced circles below her ear with his tongue. “I want to show you how it feels to be in paradise.”

  Moments later, Gabe carried through on that wish, and Nan, body convulsing with pleasure, uttered only moans muffled by wool.

  • • •

  On Christmas Eve morning, Nan blushed every time Gabe looked her way. Over breakfast, he tried his damnedest to keep his gaze on his plate. Every time he glanced up, his wife’s face turned as red as Santa’s suit, and he was afraid the kids might notice. Laney, who had been released from school in honor of the holiday, and Christopher, who wouldn’t be enrolled until Monday, were as sticky as honey, hovering near Nan and Gabe constantly, as if they might miss something. When the pair of them finally left to go feed the dog, he caught Nan around the waist where she stood at the sink and, while kissing her neck, murmured, “Cleaning up can wait.”

  “Gabriel,” she protested, “we can’t possibly! The children might return at any moment, and even if we finish before they get back, I’ll be all mussed and—”

  “Boneless,” he interjected.

  “I’ll need to wash up. And how shall I explain that when I’ve already—”

  “I’ll bring you a wet cloth, and I’ll tell the kids that you’re taking a quick nap so you’ll be rested for tonight’s Christmas Eve festivities.”

  Gabe felt the resistance in her body drain away. He lifted her into his arms, carried her into their room, deposited her on the bed, and then found the skeleton key in her armoire to lock the bedroom door from the inside. When he returned to his wife a moment later, she was unbuttoning her bodice, revealing to him that her high color ran well below her cheeks.

  As he started toeing off his boots, she said, “Gabriel, I shan’t enjoy . . . well, you know, the, um, activities we engaged in last night. It’s broad daylight, and . . . well, even if we pull the shade, it won’t be dark in here, and I just—”

  Gabe, already out of his shirt, leaned down to silence her with a long, deep kiss. She sighed blissfully when he lifted his head to smile at her. “You know how to make it really dark in here?” he asked.

  “No.” She blinked, her expression a mixture of puzzlement and yearning. “How?”

  Gabe stretched out beside her and began helping with her buttons. “Just close your eyes, sweetheart. The light will go out.”

  “But you’ll still be able to see.”

  And he planned to enjoy the view. A few minutes later, his precious wife reached down to make fists in his hair in a halfhearted attempt to make him stop nuzzling her thighs apart. “Gabriel?” she squeaked. “I have no sock to bite. I truly think this should— Oh! Don’t . . . Oh, my!”

  “The kids are gone,” he murmured against her.

  That was all it took to send her over the edge.

  • • •

  Nan was dressed and perfectly coiffed again by the time she heard the children coming up the stairs. She smiled dreamily at Gabriel, who’d just straightened from putting something in the icebox. He looked so handsome, freshly shaved, with his black hair damp and just combed.

  “Christmas Eve shall begin in earnest now!” Nan informed him. “We’ll need to take them both out to do some last-minute shopping straightaway. The shops will close early. Because of school, they haven’t been able to get gifts for anyone yet.”

  Just then the door flew open. Nan heard a loud thump against the stairway wall, a muffled oomph from Laney, and then an odd clicking sound. She turned from the sink with drippy hands suspended to see a blur of yellow barreling toward her. The next thing Nan knew, she had a huge paw on each of her shoulders, and the small of her back was pressed sharply against the counter edge.

  “Off!” Gabriel said.

  With a whine, Nan’s assailant lowered his large self onto all fours. Nan stared stupidly down at the creature in her kitchen, a huge golden dog with long, shiny fur and a feathery, crescent-shaped tail that swung wildly back and forth, whacking her cupboard door one moment and Gabriel’s thigh the next.

  “It’s Christopher’s fault!” Laney stood shoulder-to-shoulder with her dark-haired partner in crime. “He says nobody should be alone on Christmas Eve, without a home and people to love him, not even a dog.”

  “Nuh-uh!” Christopher cried. “You can’t blame it all on me! Ever since I came here, all you’ve talked about is bringin’ him home with us!”

  “Oh, posh!” Laney protested. “That isn’t all I’ve talked about.”

  “I don’t care what Gabe says; you’re a fussy little snot!” Christopher nearly shouted. “It was your idea first, and now you’re tryin’ to get me in trouble for it. I’m not takin’ all the responsibility. I’m the one here for temporary, and they could kick me out over it.”

  “Hey!” Gabe, holding the dog back from Nan by the scruff of its neck, gave both children a warning look. “We will not raise our voices at each other in this house.” He shifted his gaze to the boy. “And name-calling is unacceptable. Am I clear?”

  “You’re the snot!” Laney cried.

  “Enough!” Gabe shouted, clearly forgetting that he’d just decreed that nobody in the house should raise his voice. “It doesn’t matter whose idea it was to bring this mongrel home. The fact is that Nan said no. I have to back her on that. There’s no proper yard out back for him, he’ll shed all over our home and her shop, and who’ll take him for exercise while you’re at school? He’ll have a miserable life here, shut away upstairs all day.”

  “Mr. Redmond has Blacky in his shop all day, every day, and he sells foodstuffs.” Laney’s
eyes sparked with fiery indignation. “Why can’t Jasper have a bed by Mama’s shop stove?”

  “Jasper?” Gabe echoed.

  “Christopher says that’s a famous name for a dog,” Laney said. “And I like it. So that’s what we call him now. Jasper.”

  “Well, Jasper has to go back to the lean-to,” Gabe said firmly. “Now.”

  Nan finally found her voice. “Wait!” She held up a hand while she gave the dog a long, wary study. She had never owned a dog or been around them much. But this particular canine had huge, soulful brown eyes, which he used to good effect, giving her pleading looks that said more clearly than with words, Keep me, please keep me. I’ll be good. Please, please, pleeease? And Nan was lost. “Perhaps we can work something out,” she heard herself say.

  “Nan, he jumped on you,” Gabriel reminded her. “He has no manners. What if he knocks Geneva White on her sequined ass?”

  “That word ain’t allowed,” Christopher informed Gabe with a certain smugness that brought a giggle from Laney. “You said so!”

  Nan saw Gabe grimace. He released the dog and straightened. “My apologies, ladies.” He sent Christopher a glare. “I plumb forgot.”

  Nan cupped a hand over her mouth and pretended to cough in order to hide a smile. When she could keep a straight face, she bent over to beckon the dog back to her. “Come here, Jasper. Introduce yourself properly.” The dog, in such a flurry to do just that, lost his footing on the waxed boards, and for a horrible moment Nan feared he might do a four-legged split. “He doesn’t bite, I hope.”

  Jasper answered her question by worshipfully licking her outstretched hand. Nan had never in her life seen such a long, agile tongue. She felt certain the animal could clean his own ears with the tip. “Well, now,” she said with a laugh. “Aren’t you a dear?” Nan crouched down. Jasper started to jump up, but she stopped him with a stern, “No!”

  The canine moved as close to her as he could get and rested his broad head on her knees, brown eyes locked adoringly on her face. Between one heartbeat and the next, Nan fell hopelessly in love. “Hmm,” she mused aloud. “I seem to have a weakness for rascals and have three living with me now.” To the dog, she said, “And, like your predecessors, you seem to be trainable.” She sent Gabriel a teasing smile. “What do you say, husband? Can we keep him and try to work out the particulars?”

  “It’s your house,” Gabriel replied. “And it’ll be the fancy gowns of your highfalutin customers that he sheds on.”

  Nan clucked her tongue. “My highfalutin customers are not the mainstay of my business, and if Jasper runs them off, I shan’t mourn the loss. That goes especially for Geneva. No more dead canaries and no more garish sequins on a day gown.” Nan discovered the joy of scratching a dog behind the ears and watching its face go droopy with pleasure. “You’re a fine fellow, aren’t you? Yes, you are. We’ll teach you some manners, and before we know it, you’ll be a courtly gentleman. Yes, you will.”

  Laney squealed with delight and began bouncing about in circles. Christopher, rooted in the center of her joyous circumference, pushed at his long hair and rolled his eyes. But a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.

  Deciding it was time to lay out the rules, Nan stood. “He must be brushed every single day.”

  “I’ll do it!” both kids vowed simultaneously.

  “And during the week, one of you must take him for a morning walk, one of you must come home during school lunch hour to take him for another run, and then he’ll need to go in the evening. Always clear to the edge of town, mind you, where he can—” Nan broke off, searching for the right words. “Take care of his serious business,” she settled on saying. “We can’t have him making messes out front on the boardwalk.”

  Again, both children chimed in to volunteer. “It will grow to be a chore,” Nan warned. “On snowy days, I don’t wish to hear any moaning and groaning, not from either of you. Having a pet involves a lot of work, and I shall expect both of you to be responsible, caring, and Johnny-on-the-spot about seeing to his needs. If I find his water dish empty, you shall both do without supper that night, and I will not give in if you whine about it.”

  Christopher angled a mischievous look at Laney. “Hell, he may not be worth it. Maybe we should take him back to the lean-to.”

  “No!” Laney shouted.

  “You’re yelling!” Christopher accused loudly.

  “Language!” Gabriel roared.

  Nan had to stifle a laugh. Raised voices were bouncing off all her walls, and she loved it. At long last, she and Laney were part of a real family. They even had a dog, which in Nan’s estimation made the picture absolutely complete.

  • • •

  During the shopping trip for the children, Nan and Gabriel split up, each of them taking a child so both youngsters could buy a gift for the absent adult and each other. Nan took Christopher with her first, and then in an hour she met Gabriel in front of the general store to switch kids. Laney’s eyes were sparkling. She’d clearly had a wonderful time touring the stores with Gabriel, who had apparently stopped by Nan’s shop to deposit the fruits of their labor. He reached to take the packages that Nan and Christopher held in their arms, clearly intending to drop them off at home, too.

  “Guess what I got you, snot,” Christopher volleyed at the girl.

  Laney’s cheek dimpled. When a gift was involved, she could apparently ignore being called a name. “What?” she asked.

  “A great big fat cork to stuff in your mouth.” Christopher danced out of the way when Laney tried to smack him.

  With the children laughing and racing in circles around them, Nan and Gabriel shared a long look of wordless communication. I love you. And, Isn’t this wonderful? Nan wished she could give her husband a huge hug, but such shows of affection were unacceptable in public places. So instead she tried to embrace him with her eyes. She could tell by the gleam in his that he was thinking about something far more intimate than a mere hug, and she felt heat rush up her neck to pool in her cheeks.

  “Are you too hot, Mama?” Laney asked. “I could hold your coat if you want to take it off.”

  “Er, no, I’m fine,” Nan assured her, not daring to look at Gabriel. “Christopher, you go with Gabriel. Laney, it’s your turn to come with me. Where do you want to go first?”

  Laney took forever to pick gifts for Gabriel and Christopher. She finally settled on a carved ivory harmonica for each of them. Nan gulped when Mr. Redmond told her the price of each instrument.

  As Mr. Redmond walked away to wait on a gentleman in search of slippers for his wife, Laney said in a hushed voice, “I’ll work in the shop for them, Mama. Please? They can learn to play music lickety-split, probably within two weeks or less, and then maybe I’ll get to dance sometimes.”

  Nan’s heart caught when she searched her little sister’s expression. The child had been told Gabriel’s story about the angels, and she surely understood that there was still a good chance that the substitute father she’d come to love might be gone forever by tomorrow. Nan certainly hoped that they had managed to circumvent fate, but she also realized that her scheme might not work.

  “Laney, you haven’t forgotten Gabriel’s appointment tomorrow before dawn, have you?”

  The girl’s eyes went bright with tears, and her mouth quivered. “It’s not going to happen that way again,” she whispered fiercely. “Don’t even think it, Mama. I love him too much! If he dies, I’ll die, too!”

  Nan drew her sister behind the yardage rack, where they were hidden behind upright bolts of cloth. With trembling arms, she held the child close. “Oh, darling. I know, I know, truly I do, but you mustn’t talk that way. We must be strong, you and I. Gabriel needs us to be gay tonight. This is his first real Christmas Eve, remember, and just in case it should be his last, we must make it the most wonderful celebration ever. That will be our most precious gift to him, smiling ev
en if we can barely hold back our tears.”

  Laney’s thin shoulders jerked with sobs. Nan felt her own chest convulse, and her eyes burned with her attempt to keep them dry.

  “Now, now,” she whispered, patting her sister’s back.

  And then Nan sobbed herself. For the first time in her life, she didn’t give a fig if she made a public spectacle of herself. For days, she’d kept her fear and pain at bay with bright smiles, laughter, and a deliberate, self-inflicted case of amnesia. But a person could pretend for only so long. Gabriel. In a matter of hours, he would leave her shop to walk to the saloon for a whiskey before he began his fated journey up Main Street.

  Until now, Nan had been afraid to pray for a different ending to that stroll, but suddenly that struck her as being pure lunacy. The God she believed in and trusted wasn’t vengeful, and she might as well prostrate herself in prayer for Gabriel, because there was no hiding her thoughts or her actions from Him. He knew of her scheme to save her husband’s life.

  Nan hooked an arm around Laney’s shoulders and, with as much composure as she could muster, herded the child out of the store. Once on the boardwalk, they both burst into tears, sobbing, hiccoughing, and snorting. Nan kept her feet moving, forcing Laney to stumble along with her. At the corner, she veered them both left onto Oak, which she immediately regretted, because Doc Peterson’s office lay just ahead. It was on this plank walkway that Gabriel had possibly sacrificed his soul to save a little girl’s life. The thought almost took Nan to her knees.

  But she kept walking, picking up her pace. She and Laney had to regain control. If Gabriel found them like this, it would ruin his whole Christmas, and he might get to experience only half of the holiday as it was.

  Nan’s frenzy of walking found them at the edge of town, and still Nan kept on. She didn’t stop until she and Laney were well outside the community proper and encountered a split-rail fence. There, Nan held her sister in her arms. Both of them wept until their wells ran dry.

  “Oh, dear,” Nan said as she shakily dabbed at Laney’s face with a lace-edged handkerchief. “Your eyes are all red and swollen, and your nose looks as if you’ve had it pinched for hours by a brand-new clothespin.”